The Perfect What?
by DreadNot
Summary: Third in a series of drabble collections, this time focusing on Hellsing's butler, Walter C. Dornez. Various genres and Walters from Dawn to Dark. Spoilers likely. Possibly AU.
1. Balance Shift

_Another drabble/ficlet collection, this one for Walter C. Dornez, my favorite Hellsing character, as can probably be guessed by looking at my story list. These are shorts (100 - 600 words generally) of various genres and styles written for writing challenges, writing exercises, and just for the hell of it. Hopefully you will find something in here you will enjoy. There are some later volume spoilers and some blatant speculation to be found among these ficlets. My suggestion is to give them a mental AU label.  
_

* * *

He looked in the mirror, fingers dancing nimbly over the cloth, turning a long strip of fabric into a neatly knotted tie. Some things never change. 

He looked at the youngish man with black hair and red eyes who looked out of the mirror, wearing the tie he had so carefully tied. Some things do.

Walter wasn't sure he'd ever get used to this. A life spent hunting and killing vampires and here he was, the walking embodiment of irony.

But it was worth it. Every drop of blood that passed his lips, every time he thought of the people he had killed before breaking loose, every time he woke in the middle of the day with nightmares that would have left him gasping if he needed to breathe any longer.

They were all worth it.

Because when it came down to those telling final moments when he faced Integral Hellsing – unbent, unbowed, proud woman that she was – Walter had known who he was and whom he served and he had acted accordingly.

When human, Walter had been unable – _twice_ – to best Captain Günsche. But with the Doctor's little gift, Walter had avenged himself.

Walter was a tool of the Furies in their eternal fight against hubris. If Millennium had left him human, Hellsing would have fallen. If the Major and the Doctor had not thought that they were gods among cattle, Millennium would have taken the day. Their humor at his expense was their undoing.

While Alucard was busy fighting Lilith; while Seras struggled with Schrodinger; while the Iscariots fought among themselves and against both Hellsing and Millennium; a human Walter would have fought the Captain and died. And the looming German would have taken Integral and done to her what had been incompletely done to Walter.

Millennium saved Integral by doing to him what they did. And if he hadn't precisely fulfilled his order to return to Integral alive… He knew she understood how the balance of power had been shifted by his death and change.

An old man dies. _Reborn as this._

A young woman lives. _Reforged as something stronger than her previous steel._

Fair trade.

* * *

_Written for a Sin City quote challenge. The quote:  
_**Hartigan: **An old man dies. A young woman lives. Fair Trade. 


	2. Imprinting

He opened his eyes and tried to look through the haze that occluded his vision. The first thing he saw was red.

Red.

He blinked and tried to focus. One eye refused to comply, but if he closed the left one, he could see clearly enough out of the right.

Red eyes. Blonde hair. Why was this face beautiful? Because it was the first one he saw? Because it was the only one in his now empty memory?

He felt cold wetness on his face and wiped it away, surprised by the kitten-weak shakiness of his arm and hand as he did so. He looked at the red stains on his hand and wiped it unselfconsciously on his white shirt.

The blonde man helped him sit up on the cold metal table and cradled him gently while he shook, as spasms shuddered across his body and he wept helplessly and unknowingly. The silent one didn't offer meaningless words of comfort, only stroked the sobbing man's back with a cool hand.

Why was he crying? He didn't know – only that he felt an unidentifiable soul deep loss. He turned and buried his face in the other man's shoulder and mourned for something so lost he didn't even know what it was.

When his sobs stilled and he pulled away, the big man handed him a small object. He turned it over in his hands, carefully not touching the flawless glass, but not knowing what it was meant for.

It was the other man who took the object from him and clipped it to his nose, adjusting it to sit in front of the rebellious and heretofore almost useless left eye. It was the other man who carefully, gently, attached to his left ear the clip that held the chain that held the frame that held the lens – the lens that restored to him the advantages of binocular vision.

He looked around and saw for the first time the room where they were. He hadn't realized that they weren't alone. He drew away from the sight of the other men into the comfort of his caregiver's arms. They were so ugly compared to his angel. He couldn't stand to look at them, hated them almost for intruding on the quiet he had with the man who had been so gentle with him.

He refused to hear their words and turned his face away, seeking refuge, which he was given in a cool embrace. He ignored the few words that filtered through his denial of their existence, "…give him this, black will hide the tearstains better…" and "…marvelous that the boy wants Hans…" and "…too soon to bring him out to play…"

But he shuddered at one word he could not ignore no matter how he tried, "Butler." 


	3. Last Dance

"In more than fifty-five years of acquaintance, I believe this is the first time I've seen you wear anything other than your usual attire or a business suit."

Walter glanced down at his clothes. "What surprises me more is that the Major, despite not expecting to capture me, had still planned ahead enough to have this waiting." He shook his head in admiration, "You must give him credit for exceptional long-term planning."

He rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Your new look didn't last very long. I'm surprised. The warlord appearance was very martial."

Alucard laughed and looked down at his familiar red coat and the two guns in his hands. "I indulged myself in a bit of nostalgia, but I am not that man. I am not a man at all."

Walter nodded, a sardonic smile played across his lips and he looked down at his own hands with their familiar gloves and rings and fine crosshatching of whisper-thin scars. "I believe that I understand. Nostalgia for what is no longer within my grasp strikes me as self-defeating."

_"Self_-defeating Walter?" Alucard looked at the vampire who had been Hellsing's Angel of Death with a mixture of scorn and something that might have been empathy if a monster like Alucard could be capable of empathy.

Walter held out his right hand; a string of beads wrapped around his right wrist. He pointed then to Alucard's gloves. "When did you stop fighting your seals? Long before I knew you."

"Yes, but I chose to stay and serve –"

"For your own reasons. Yes, I know." Walter interrupted him unapologetically. "I'm going to die, Alucard." He looked again at the beads around his wrist. "They aren't as dramatic as your gloves," he commented while he studied them. "But at least I don't have to keep my hands covered all the time. Doc does some remarkable engraving work. After you kill me, do take a look at the sigils he has engraved on each of the beads."

"Why are you so certain that I'm going to kill you, Walter?"

"Because if you don't, I will fulfill my orders from my master, the Major, and you can't have that." Walter's tone was calm, his face was calm, but his eyes were tormented.

Alucard's voice was soft, "And your orders are?"

"I wish I could tell you, but…"

"Your orders don't allow it?"

Walter didn't answer the question. "Tell her I'm sorry I failed her."

Alucard nodded. "I will."

"Shall we dance?"

The drums of war set the beat. 


	4. Light Reading

"Twas brillig and the slithy toves…"

"What are slithy toves?"

"You have to figure that out for yourself, it's supposed to be part of the fun of the poem."

"Oh." A considering pause, "Well go on."

"Twas brillig and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe…"

"Right, and how does a slithy tove gyre and gimble?"

"Miss Integra, you asked me to read you a piece of classic literature and Jabberwocky is recognized as a classic poem of the absurdist school."

"I asked for a poem in English, Walter."

Walter sighed and put aside _Through the Looking Glass_ and picked up another book from the stack next to her bed. He opened the book and began to recite:

"April is the cruellest month, breeding  
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  
Memory and desire, stirring  
Dull roots with spring rain."

"That's much better, Walter. I'm sure Father will be pleased."

Walter sighed again before continuing with _The Wasteland._ Some children just refused to stay children.

* * *

_Requested by Ciarda Rois, who asked for Walter and the use of the word "Jabberwocky."_  



	5. Old Hobbies

The young man hissed in pain as a quick lash split the skin above one pierced nipple. The long cut closed rapidly leaving just the line of blood behind on his skin as though someone had drawn a line on him with a leaking fountain pen dipped in red ink.

"Oh come now. You mutilate yourself for the merest adornment and can't learn to appreciate pain for pleasure?"

A hand wearing a fingerless glove pulled at the ring, just a quick jerk before wiping up the blood with a finger that caressed across the now healed injury.

Walter brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean. He looked down at the young man who bore an unfortunate resemblance to Jan Valentine and smiled. One of the advantages of the new life Millennium had given him was the opportunity to revisit old hobbies.

* * *

_Requested by Oscar Rose, who wanted to see Walter and Jan Valentine together. I fudged a little. _  



	6. Priorities

_He loved Somerset Maugham._

"We don't need that, excise it."

A brief pain, then the love and the memory of the pain were gone.

_He hated most bread products, although for some odd reason, he had a strange fondness for blueberry muffins._

"He'll have absolutely no use for that ever again. Cut it."

Again, a brief and unremembered pain.

_He had both trained his body and allowed Arthur Hellsing to perform certain experiments that gave him the inhuman speed that had saved him so many times._

"Hm. More difficult. Do you think he'll maintain the speed if he does not retain the memory of how he attained it?"

A pause and a different voice, "Cut it, his other skills will include the knowledge he'll need."

How many times did this go on? He would never know. Just as his humanity was gone, so was the memory of the pain of excision. He remembered only what they wanted him to remember – speech, etiquette, loyalty, albeit perverted, and of course, how to kill. Always how to kill.

"Ah, Butler, how good of you to join us."

He did not respond. It was unnecessary.

* * *

_This was written for a drabble challenge. Sabinelagrande requested a ficlet using Walter and the word "muffins."_


	7. Reckoning

"How does it feel, Angel?"

Walter looked up from the computer screen to the vampire who stood behind it. He waited for his eyes to adjust, partly blinded by the CRT glare in the otherwise darkened room.

"How does what feel, Alucard?" He was in no mood for Alucard's verbal games, having a great deal of work to do.

"To grow old - to know that death waits for you around the corner, scythe sharpened. How does it feel to know that your reckoning is nearly upon you?"

Walter thought only briefly before replying; it was a question he had pondered many times in recent years.

"I suppose, Alucard, that it is something of a relief." 


	8. Serendipity

Looking out from someone else's eyes was weird. Looking out from someone else's eyes at someone you used to know who had changed as radically as Walter was more than weird. Looking out at him as Walter tangled those wires around his host body was terrifying.

_Hold on, girly, we'll get out of this._ He tried to be reassuring, but they both knew it was bravado, not faith.

"Miss Victoria." Silky smooth, seductive in another setting; horrible in this one.

"Leave her alone!" Out of her mouth without his volition.

"And the Captain, too? How intriguing."

They closed her eyes.

* * *

_For kelles, who requested Pip, Seras, and Dark Walter. Easier said than done. _  



	9. The Dancer

_Oh God, no!_

At first Seras hadn't realized what she was seeing, flying above the seething mass of Dracula's soul slaves.

In the midst of the sea of shadowy figures, a circle was opening. It started small around a single figure, black clad among the black forms, a pale face occasionally visible. The circle grew and Seras flew closer, curious to see the person or creature in the center of the empty space.

And then she realized that she was watching a single man in a deadly dance. He did look like he was dancing as he spun, feet moving nimbly among the pieces of bodies his art left strewn in the street, hands and arms following a rhythm of their own as he wove a glittering sphere around himself.

And then she got close enough to recognize him.

_Oh God, no!_

_

* * *

Requested by kitsunelover, who wanted to see Dark Walter and Seras._


	10. The Second Time

The second time he asked, it was so tempting.

I was tired, lonely – bereft. I had just failed my first attempt at a relationship. She said I was too cold. Her last words as she threw the few gifts I had given her back at me were that I wasn't human, just a pretty monster.

"A pretty monster, Angel? Yes, I suppose you are."

Damn him! That voice, vibrating on the back of my neck. I was so furious that he would intrude on me in my private upset. I tried to tell him to leave me alone, but he ignored my words.

"Even a vapid girl like her recognizes what you are, my Angel." A cold hand slid across my nape and I shuddered. I told myself then that it was the chill.

"Some things won't change with time, Walter. But you will. You will grow less pretty. You will slow. You will lose that which makes you the Angel of Death." I was ready to tell him that those were acceptable consequences of humanity, but he beat me to my argument.

"But you will always be a monster. You won't regain your humanity with time. Grey hair and wrinkles will not restore what you willingly gave away." His nose brushed my ear as he laid his curses on my soul.

"Take my offer," he whispered in my ear. "Stay the pretty monster instead of aging and dying. Serve with me – beside me."

He failed there. It would never be a matter of serving with him; only of serving him.

* * *

_Yes, this does go with a fic I have up separately titled "__The First Time,"__ but it was a little clunky to put together without the third chapter (up at adultfanfiction dot net, which is NC-17. The fourth chapter is also at __adultfanfiction dot net, __because it doesn'__t stand alone well._


	11. Simple Pleasures

Alucard mocked Walter for performing menial tasks that were beneath him not just as Hellsing's butler, but as a vampire. "Just create your clothes from shadow, as I do. They exist only to satisfy human mores, anyway."

"If I didn't know that you were a happy newlywed, Alucard, I might have the impression that you were simply amused by the idea of seeing me walking around essentially nude." Walter had allowed himself a small smirking twitch of the lips at his old companion before turning away, schooling his face to its now accustomed impassivity.

What he lacked in expression, Walter found he more than made up for in a newly acerbic turn of thought. _That impression is solidified by what Seras told me recently about your sleeping arrangements with the Countess. _

He was laughing while he walked away, even if his face didn't show it, knowing that Alucard had heard exactly what he'd thought. He walked a fine line with the elder vampire, insulting him, but it was a game they'd played when Walter was younger and much more brash; they had stopped playing when Walter had matured. It was a sign of his mental state that they were back to playing the game again.

Laundry day was something Walter had always enjoyed. Yes, Hellsing had laundresses and Walter had no reason to ever do his own domestic work, but he had always been a self-sufficient man and preferred to take care of his personal affairs personally.

Sleeve garters had been carefully hand washed and clipped to a hanger to dry. Socks and underwear were tidily folded and waiting in the basket to be put away. His ties were ironed and neatly draped over a tie hanger waiting to be returned to his wardrobe. He had ironed seven identical pairs of black trousers, starched to military crispness seven shirts, both black and white, and immaculately pressed seven waistcoats, all of which hung in neat ranks waiting to be carried to his quarters and returned to their rightful places until they were needed.

It was such a delightfully _human _thing to be doing. Walter didn't lie to himself about his reasons for enjoying it so much. There were few enough reminders of his humanity; he took what tidbits he could find.

The very proper vampire glanced around before indulging one last human foible, holding a set of warm sheets to his face to enjoy the warmth, softness, and fragrance. It was a singularly nostalgic thing, bringing to mind many other times in his life when he'd stood in the Hellsing laundry room with fresh, hot, clean sheets in his hands.

He finished folding the sheets and added them to the basket to return to his room. It had taken some effort to find someone willing to make sheets of the quality he required that would fit a coffin, but it had been worth every phone call and every pound spent to have that one simple reminder that he'd once been human.

* * *

_Written for alucardsbane in response to her request for a ficlet involving Walter and fresh bed linen. _


	12. If I Die and Introductions

_As is my habit after finishing a long story, (in this case, Scientific Method,) I took requests for drabbles in my LiveJournal. These two were written at the request of LJ's dragontalon666 and ff net's Tazo. Both are exactly 100 word drabbles.

* * *

_**  
If I Die Before I Wake**

"I returned as you ordered, my Lady."

"No, Walter." Her tone was sorrowful, her eyes red from fatigue and smoke and unshed tears. "You didn't."

She had ordered him to return alive, not like this.

He shifted in the chains of shadow that Alucard had laid on him. His expression darkened and for a moment a cruel arrogance was overlaid on his sharp features. "If I died, it was for you."

"I know."

She held out a hand and Alucard silently placed one of Anderson's silver blades in it – a replacement for her fallen sword.

"Once more, and then rest."

**

* * *

Introductions**

The two boys regarded each other warily across the trench. They'd already tried sparring and found themselves well matched.

Which would be fine in Walter's opinion, if the other boy didn't stand between him and his quarry. "Why are you helping them?"

"Because that's what the Father told me to do."

The Father? Did he mean his father? Or something else?

Walter had no time to ask before the Germans began another artillery attack.

"What's your name?" he called as the boy took advantage of the barrage to open some distance between them.

"Marco Renaldo. Don't forget."

Oh, he wouldn't.


	13. Jack and Jill

Alucard lay quietly in his coffin and listened to Walter bantering with some nameless soldier. He didn't see the purpose of both of them being on this mission. _Go with the butler to Poland and destroy the artificial vampire research project,_ Arthur had said. The vampire would have rolled his eyes had they been open.

Either the Angel of Death was strong enough to do things himself, or he wasn't. If he wasn't, Alucard could handle things on his own. Why send the two of them when that left Hellsing unprotected?

The vampire smirked in the darkness and reconsidered his complaint. How convenient it would be if Arthur were killed while they were away. Fewer than fifty years of service in exchange for the additional power the Hellsings had given him.

Power.

Alucard's grin spread. He was going to kill those who thought to make vampires for their own ends with the teenage Angel of Death?

Not good enough.

He would humiliate them, crush them, destroy them in every way including self-respect.

Inside the coffin, the long frame of the vampire shrank and changed.

_Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water  
Jack fell down and broke his crown  
And Jill took over the slaughter_


	14. Counting Bodies

Damn. Walter was impressed. He pulled himself out of the trench Alucard had tossed him into before the artillery hit. She had gone back her precious Last Domain before the building went the way of all things – just a bit faster than usual.

Nothing remained. The hijacked cannon had done its job just as had been arranged.

"That's it?" he asked Alucard as he climbed out to stand next to her. "Did we get all of them?"

"Nothing lives or moves in the rubble. I sent the hounds to sniff out survivors, and there are none." Walter could see the hounds nosing through the rubble, and one gnawing on something that had to have been human once.

He whistled softly and dug a cadged cigarette out of his waistcoat. Lighting it, he winced, reminded of the broken bones in his face. He'd be feeling that tomorrow.

"So why this?" he asked, gesturing at Alucard. He eyed the fuzzy white hat in particular. "Did you want to them to show up at the gates of Hell completely embarrassed by who had sent them there?"

Alucard laughed and turned away from contemplating the destruction to favor Walter with a sharp smile. "What I showed them is no more who I am than the hellhound or the man you think you know." 


End file.
